30 Days of Cheesy Tropes
by thelittlestcrane
Summary: from the Tumblr challenge. 30 Days of Cheesy story tropes. DickDamian/JasonDamian/TimDamian/StephDamian. (30/30)
1. Coffee Shop

Damian is fifty pages in to his novel when he hears the bell over the door clink. Out of habit he glances up, watching as the first customer of the day trudges in. The weather is terrible, nearly a blizzard, but the inside of the shop is warm and welcoming.

Damian wishes it wasn't.

He doesn't particularly want to wait on anyone today, and he certainly doesn't feel like brewing gallon after gallon of coffee.

The hat comes off with the scarf and the collar is pulled down. Damian doesn't hide his scoff, drawing the attention of the customer to where he's stretched out on the couch. "Only you would show up during a blizzard, Todd."

Jason absentmindedly flips the bird, "Is Tim in?" He climbs over the counter, picking through the flavorings and various cans of coffee beans behind the counter. He fills one of the single serving machines and sticks the closest mug underneath, flipping the switch and stepping back to watch it brew.

"He's taking inventory," Damian replies, turning the page, "You better be paying for that."

"Mm. Has Dick been down yet?"

Damian scowls, "No."

"Hey, now." Jason leans over the counter, "Don't get mad at him moping about being dumped. He always does it."

"-_tt_- I am not angry about _that_."

"I know. You're _mad_ because he keeps dating other people and crying to you about it when it doesn't work out even though he knows you've got a hard-on for him." Jason taps his temple with his index finger, "I _do_ know things."

Damian snorts, "Debatable. Pay for your drink."

Jason stands, turning to retrieve his mug when the machine's timer beeps at him. "You don't have to pay when you're fucking the boss."

"Grayson is the boss."

"Dick is the landlord." Jason rolls his eyes, taking a testing sip before sprucing the drink up with chocolate shavings and whipped cream, "Tim is the boss. You, my little angry bird, are at the bottom of the food chain."

Damian frowns at the nickname and the truth of the statement. Jason salutes him with the mug and disappears into the back to find his lover. Damian doesn't quite consider them boyfriends since they both have other boyfriends on the side. He's still baffled than Kent and Harper are unobjectionable with their respective partners fucking each other but he also doesn't care enough to try and understand.

He returns to his book and gets through another seventy or so pages before Grayson comes stumbling down the stairs, hair disheveled and still in his pajamas. Damian stares, wondering how he can be interested in someone so unkept and slightly pathetic (so Grayson's two-date girlfriend dumped him. It's not something to let himself _go_ over).

Dick quite literally crawls under the counter, standing back up to shuffle over to the coffee bean rack. Damian looks back down as he starts fumbling with the ingredients. He is not making Grayson pit-coffee. He is not making Grayson pity-coffee.

"Damian?" Dick whines slowly, sagging over the counter and sliding forward until his hands hang off the opposite edge.

"No," Damian replies clearly.

"Please, Dami. Please, Dami. Please, Dami." He continues to say the words, voice slowly quieting until he's whispering to himself.

Damian sighs, setting the book on the cushion next to him and pushing off the couch. He uses the latch-door to get behind the counter, pushing into Dick's space to take over. Dick mutters his thanks as Damian fills the machine, starting the brew and stepping back.

"Why do I always get dumped, Damian? Am I a terrible person?" Dick sighs morosely.

Damian resists the full-body twitch he feels he's entitled to. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. Every single fucking time Grayson breaks up with someone he complains about it to Damian. Because he knows Damian isn't going to turn him away no matter how much he wants to.

"You get _dumped_ because you date anyone who asks you out, regardless of their level of interest in you." Damian snaps.

Dick makes a small, dying kitten noise in the back of his throat and pushes himself off the counter. He retrieves his mug of coffee and holds it with both hands, sighing at the warmth and the smell. "I know. I'm terrible at saying no."

Damian glances back over, grumbling when he sees the spilled beans all over the counter. Just another mess of Grayson's he has to clean up.

"I guess I should start dating people who like me." Dick sighs, taking a drink and whimpering when the liquid burns his tongue.

"You _think_?" Damian shoulders him out of the way, going to brush the coffee beans into a small pile.

"Don't be unnecessarily sarcastic. I'm having a crisis."

"It's your own fault." Damian replies, batting Dick's hand away when he attempts to mess up the pile.

"I know," Dick sighs again, "I should just date you. You're interested in me."

"I don't date pathetic do-gooders that are so worried about hurting a stranger's feelings he can't say no to them."

"…_ouch_." Dick frowns at him, "You're mean."

The door to the shop is pushed open and a shivering couple rush inside, hurrying to hang their wet jackets on the coatrack by the door. Damian walks around Dick, taking his place at the register. "Don't make a _joke_ about being in a relationship with me."

Dick's mouth drops open, "I…I didn't mean…_Damian_!"

Damian ignores him in favor of taking the couple's order. In fact, he ignores Dick for the rest of the night, despite the man following Damian around the store like a lost puppy. At some point Jason and Tim return to the main room, but they don't prove much help, watching with similarly perplexed expressions.

By the time they're about to close, the snow has stopped falling. The roads are still slick when Damian peers out the large glass window of the store, and the snow is piled high on the sidewalks, but it isn't horrible enough that he can't brave his way to Colin's house..

"Damian, you aren't going home, are you?" Tim frowns as he finishes counting out the register, "It's pretty horrible out there."

"Where else am I supposed to stay?"

"You can crash on the couch," Tim gestures to where Damian's book still sits. "I don't plan on being open tomorrow so no one will come in."

Damian weighs the options, "-_tt_- Whatever." It's as close as a thank you that he'll ever give Tim.

Tim shrugs, lifting his eyebrow as Dick taps Damian's shoulder, making it the fourth time in five minutes. Damian bites his tongue, schooling his reaction. He isn't going to give in. Grayson can just deal with it.

"Damian?"

Tim clears his throat, "If you need us, Jason and I will be staying here too. He wants to pull an all-nighter and watch movies or something."

"Damian?"

"Not on this television." Damian gestures to the set on the wall adjacent to the couch and above the fireplace.

"Damian?"

"No, in his living room." Tim points to Damian's shadow. "Also, please acknowledge him. This is getting really annoying."

Damian scowls as Tim heads to the back of the store. There's another tap on his shoulder. "_What_?"

"I'm sorry I upset you, Damian." Dick steps around and in front of him. Damian averts his eyes, continuing to do so as Dick tries to move into his line of sight. "Damian, I'm really sorry. I am."

"Why would you say it?" Damian narrows his eyes, "You and Todd and Drake all treat relationships like joke. Relationships are _difficult_."

"I know, I'm sorry." Dick looks very much like one of those animals from the adoption commercials, "I'm a jerk. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I'll let you spend the night on my floor. You can take a shower and everything."

"What a deal." Damian's words drip sarcasm.

"Damian…" Dick sighs, "I said it because I know you _do_ like me. But you've never done anything about it, so…"

Damian clicks his tongue, "Not everyone has to have a date every Friday night. I don't need you to date me."

"I just…don't really know how to react to that. Are you…asexual or something?"

"Sex disinterests me," Damian allows. "That doesn't mean I am adverse to it. I don't want to date someone who isn't interested in _me_. I have more self-respect than that."

"People can learn to like each other."

"Then learn," Damian turns, going for his book, "Then we'll talk."


	2. Idol AU

Nightwing is, arguably, the most popular vigilante in Gotham.

Sure, there's Batwoman and Batgirl and Black Bat, but Nightwing is the staple image of the city. Black and blue, swinging around on rooftops, kicking ass and taking names. He's every little girl's knight in shining armor. Every little boy's hero. Every grown woman's fantasy. Every grown man's envy.

It's impossible to call yourself a Gothamite and not recognize the symbol. Damian knows all about it. His (adopted) brother is a bit of a fanboy. Drake has the posters and the action figures and (and Damian wishes he had _never_ discovered this) the sex toys.

Damian, for his part, doesn't pay much attention to the Nightwing. He's just another part of Gotham. Nothing too interesting.

His father is quite taken with the Catwoman.

Regardless, Damian keeps his nose out of Caped business. He wants nothing to do with superheroes or supervillains or anything else.

Which means, of course, that Gotham decides he needs to be at the forefront of said business. By which, Gotham means Damian is tossed off the roof of a Wayne Tech party by a psychotic ex-employee that fell into a vat of toxic waste or something equally cliché.

Nightwing saves him that night, coming from out of nowhere and catching him, depositing him back on the roof before taking care of the self-proclaimed supervillain. He leaves Damian a little star-struck and a lot winded. But mostly, he leaves Damian intrigued.

After that, well, if Drake hasn't noticed all of his Nightwing memorabilia missing, Damian isn't going to bring attention to it.


	3. Anonymous Love Letters

Dick is sorting through his mail when he notices the unmarked envelope. It's off-white and has a vintage texture to it, sealed with a raised black dot made out of some kind of wax. Curiosity gets the better of him and he opens the envelope, pulling out the folded piece of parchment paper and scanning over it.

_Mine Eye and Heart are at a mortal war _

Dick blinks, turning the paper over. Nothing. He turns it back, inspecting the elegant scrawl. It looks like something out of the days of writing by candlelight in quills. Dick sets it to the side and continues going through his mail.

:::

The next morning, a Sunday, Dick finds an envelope on his living room floor, probably having been slid under his door. He picks it up, setting it on the counter while he pours himself a bowl of cereal.

He opens it while he eats, scanning the page with slightly heightened interest.

_How to divide the conquest of thy sight_

It's a silly thing to make him smile, but he does. It's been years since he's had a secret admirer. Not since elementary school when they made you give candy to the whole class on Valentine's Day. He takes another bite of cereal, smiling around his spoon.

:::

Tim is over the following day, venting about something with the Titans, when the mail drops through the slot in Dick's door (he's eternally grateful the apartment complex hired someone to dispense the mail amongst the tenants).

Dick picks up the pile while Tim continues to talk, flicking through the envelopes until he finds the blank one. He drops the rest on the couch as he returns to the kitchen, opening the letter and nodding when he thinks it's appropriate.

Tim seems to get the hint as he unfolds the paper, falling silent.

Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar

Dick feels a smile pull at his lips and he slides back onto the barstool, setting the paper down on the island counter.

"Good news?" Tim asks.

"Hm? Secret admirer. I think."

"Dick…" Tim blinks, "Those never end well for you."

"It's harmless poetry."

Tim reaches over, pulling the paper closer, "_Sight would bar_? You don't recognize this?"

"The handwriting? No."

"The poem." Tim clarifies, "It's Shakespeare. Sonnet 46."

"You know it?"

"I had a class in school that studied Sonnets. How does it go…

_Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war _

_How to divide the conquest of thy sight_

_Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,_

_My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. _

_My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie _

_A closet never pierced with crystal eyes _

_But the defendant doth that plea deny _

_And says in him thy fair appearance lies._

_To 'cide this title is impanneled _

_A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,_

_And by their verdict is determined _

_The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part:_

_As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part,_

_And my heart's right thy inward love of heart_.

It's a little difficult to analyze but basically he's saying the physical attributes of his lover are appreciated by his eyes while his love is appreciated by his heart."

"…did you write this?"

"What? No." Tim makes a face, "If I was sending you love poetry, I would have chosen Sonnet 18."

"I don't know what that means." Dick replies, "Hm. I wonder who's sending them though."

Tim is quiet for a moment, "You don't recognize the handwriting?"

"No." Dick shakes his head.

Tim taps his thumb against the edge of the paper. "Are you coming to the family meeting tomorrow?"

"I kind of have to, right? Yearly check-ups. Have to sign off on everything."

"Yeah. Well. See you there."

:::

Dick makes it to the Batcave just as Damian is getting off the medical table, flexing his arm from where Alfred undoubtedly drew blood. Bruce is a few feet away, inputting everything into the tablet so he can upload the data to the mainframe later.

Dick sidles over, smile wide and friendly, "Almost done?"

"It's almost your turn," Bruce clarifies.

Damian is rubbing his thumb over the pinprick on his inner elbow, "How long is this going to take?"

"We'll get your results in a few minutes." Bruce frowns at his son, "You've been rather impatient tonight, Damian."

"I hardly think anyone _enjoys_ being medically examined all night," Damian replies, pressing his thumb above the prick and watching the blood well when he applies pressure.

"Got a hot date?" Dick wages his eyebrows, grinning at his former partner.

Damian scoffs, taking a few steps away from Dick as the computer monitor beeps its completion and the noise for incoming data sounds from the tablet in Bruce's hands.

Bruce checks it over with quick precision, jabbing at the screen with unnecessary harshness. "Results are clean, though your resting heart rate is slightly higher than average."

"Is that it?" Damian doesn't seem to care, "Can I go?"

"Sign off and you can leave," Bruce hands over the tablet, expression a little perplexed.

Damian takes the computer and the stylus pen from his father, holding it to his chest for support while he quickly signs his name. Despite the pace, the penmanship is elegant, curling letters and thick 'e's.

Dick stares over Damian's shoulder at the screen, blinking at the signature. "Do you always write so…fancy?"

"_Some_ of us know proper calligraphy," Damian retorts, returning the items to his father.

Dick frowns as Damian strides to the stairs, ascending towards the Manor without so much as a goodbye. He looks at Bruce once they hear the elevator start up, "What was up with that?"

Bruce sighs, "I have no idea."

Dick glances back down at the computer, eyes falling to the fancy scrawl. "Can I see that for a minute?"

Bruce hands it to him, turning to mess with some keys on the mainframe. Dick brings the device closer, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Damian's signature is extremely familiar. Dick isn't the best at recognizing handwriting (he knows John Hancock's and Bruce's so that's good enough) considering Tim is the better detective, but something about the way the tail of his 'y' thins in the middle before thickening out again is unique.

Dick's seen it before.

"Oh my god." Dick blinks, the realization dawning on him.

"What?" Bruce looks concerned, "I didn't look over anything in the results."

"No, it's not that." Dick shakes his head, "Just…I think Damian's been sending me poetry."

"Oh." Bruce clears his throat, turning again, "That."

"Wait, you know?" Dick squints at the man's back, "Knew?"

Bruce sighs again, "I don't want to have this conversation."

"But…did Tim know?" Dick thinks back to their conversation the day before, "He _did_! Tim totally knew! Damian-"

"Sit down so I can take your blood."

"Oh my _god_. I _have_ to ambush him on patrol tonight."


	4. Angels&Demons AU

**Warnings:** Angst and sadness. Implied major character death.

* * *

The human pacing before the circle is starting to irritate him. Constantly moving, running his hands through his hair, eyes shifting back and forth, being generally annoying in his habits. Something must be wrong with him. He looks stressed, dark circles under his eyes, but he is not unattractive.

The Demon stretches his host's shoulders until they pop, leaning back on his palms. "What _are_ you doing?"

The human jumps, not expecting to hear from what he summoned without him being addressed first. "You…you need to go back. I shouldn't have done this. This was a mistake."

The Demon lifts his body's eyebrow, "_Mistake_? You went through a _lot_ of work to make a mistake." He examines the human, reaching out with what little power he can harness to the fraying corners of the human's mind. "…You want me to _stay_, because if I _leave_…"

He places his hand over the body's unbeating heart, "…If I leave, this body dies."

The human stares, fingers shaking and shoulders tense.

The Demon sighs, "Relax, human. I can't harm you if I'm in the circle, remember?"

The human takes a step closer, sliding to the floor and sitting before the circle, arms folded across his knees. "I…I can't just let you die."

The Demon blinks. He knows the human is referring to the body, not to what's in it. He wonders what was so important about this boy. He's small, though there is a strength in his limbs that The Demon can feel. A shame to have died so young.

A shame for The Demon too. He can't access the body's memories if the brain isn't functioning.

That makes it much harder to manipulate his surroundings, people included.

The human takes a breath, "Demons don't want to go back to Hell, right? That's why you're always possessing people? Because you want to stay?"

The Demons hums, enjoying the way the body's voice makes it sound. He wonders what he looks like. It's been a while since he felt so comfortable in someone else's skin, but then again, it's been a while since he's been in skin that didn't have a voice protesting his every breath.

"If I break this circle, you can stay on earth?"

He hums once more, examining his short nails. He's developing a quick fascination for this body.

"I want to make a deal. If I break the circle, you stay in Damian's body."

The Demon looks up, "Damian? That was his name?" He grins, enjoying the way the human pales, "How fitting."

"Will you do it?"

"Hm." The demon rises to bare feet, raising arms above his head and stretching. He drops them, tilting his head at the human, "I assume you know the consequences of making a deal with a demon. You may be able to keep this body around, but the moment _you_ die, I will rip your soul apart."

"I _am_ aware," The human stands as well. He doesn't take back his proposal, though.

The Demon looks around the room, "Break the circle, then."

"Agree to the deal first."

He grins. "Smart. Alright, human. We have a deal. What am I to call you?"

"D-" The human pauses. "Grayson. You call me Grayson, and I call you Damian."

The Demon watches as the human, Grayson, rubs his toe through the ash, breaking the circle. He sighs as a wash of power seeps over him. "Acceptable."

"And don't go trying to kill me just to get out of our deal."

The Demon chuckles with Damian's voice, stepping closer and placing his small hand over Grayson's heart. "Don't worry. I'll wait until your soul is dyed good and _dark_."


	5. Bartender AU

Dick is used to hearing about other people's problems. He's a bartender. It's part of the job description; dealing with drunk, emotional people. He's used to overbearing advances followed by apologies and the sudden bursting into tears as people complain about their jobs or their lives or their lovers.

He doesn't like it.

Sure, he tolerates it. Smiles. Gives advice. Generally acts like a decent person. But he doesn't like it. It's stifling, and frankly, Dick doesn't care.

Which makes the thoughts running through his mind as he discretely observes the solidity customer at the end of the bar all the more confusing.

He's nursing a glass of untouched vodka, staring into the liquid like it might hold the answers he's looking for but he doubts it. He's attractive, though that's not what first caught Dick's eye, with tanned skin and dark hair and blue eyes. What first caught his eye was that the kid is fucking _famous_ – Bruce Wayne's son – but he chose to come to such a seedy bar.

The only reason Dick can think of is that he's hiding from someone.

So, against all of his usual tendencies, he walks over and engages in conversation.

"You know, it's not going to drink itself."

Damian Wayne glances up, fingers not leaving the edge of the drink. He looks away moments later, running his thumb along the rim of the glass.

Dick blinks. "_Rude_-"

He stops himself when Damian looks back up, mentally wincing. He's not supposed to call customers names. Kori says so, and Kori's the boss.

"Ah-_hem_," He corrects lightly, "Sorry to bother you."

He turns, barely catching the muffled grumble of the college-aged boy, "Why do _you_ care."

Dick isn't going to let that go. He spins on his heel, "Why, thank you for asking!"

The boy looks startled, as it was clearly not an invitation.

"_I_ find that talking to someone who has no preformed bias of your story helps take a load off. Plus, it's proven that connections help improve people's general moods. Or something. Anyway, _something_ is clearly bothering you, and when customers get upset they drink too much, and when they drink too much they fight, and when they fight I have to kick people out and that makes _me_ upset." Dick pulls his stool over across from Damian and sits, "So, what's wrong?"

Damian stares, slightly put-off, "It is impossible _not_ to be biased. Everyone in the city knows my family."

"True, but not everyone _knows_ your family. _I_ certainly don't."

Damian frowns, shifting in his seat. He folds his arms on the table, moving away from his untouched drink, "…my family is having troubles."

"Most do," Dick nods, pulling Damian's drink closer to him.

Damian makes a noise, "My father is taking me off a project at the company that _I_ started and giving the position to Drake."

"And that is…?"

"The _adopted_ son."

"Oh." Dick winces, "That sucks. Did you tell your dad how you felt?"

Damian stares like it's the stupidest idea he's heard, "We don't talk about _feelings_ in our family."

"Why not?"

"I…_I don't know_," Damian scowls, "I don't care."

Dick hums, tapping his fingers on the edge of the glass, "You know, and this is just speculation, but it _sounds_ like you care a lot."

Damian stares at the surface of the bar, eyebrows furrowing. "I…maybe."

"So…_maybe_ you should try talking to him."

Damian frowns, testing the idea in his mind.

"_Dick_!"

Dick looks over his shoulder where Kori is staring at him, hands on her waist.

"Get back to work!"

Dick glances at the small line of customers that has gathered at the front of the bar. He makes a face, standing up.

"Sorry, sorry!" He holds up his hands, glancing back at Damian one last time, "Seriously, though, you should tell him. He's your dad, he should be a _little_ understanding."

He can feel Damian's eyes on him as he returns to work, but by the time the line of customers has all been served, Damian is gone.

:::

Damian shows up one week later, in the same spot, ordering the same drink. His expression, however, is different. Lighter. Less morose. Dick waits until the line of customers has been all taken care of before he pulls a chair up across from Damian.

"You look better."

Damian hums, tapping his fingers along the rim of the glass, "I…talked with my father."

"Oh, yeah?" Dick takes the drink, figuring Damian won't be doing more than playing with it. "How'd that work out?"

Damian frowns just slightly as Dick takes a sip, "He…did not put me back on the project."

"_Oh_." Dick frowns, "Then…why aren't you even _more_ ticked?"

Damian folds his arms, "He apologized for giving me the impression that he preferred Drake over me, and he gave me a check."

"He _paid you off_?"

"He solves most of his problems with money," Damian shrugs, "It works out, regardless. I'm going to use the money for the project as an anonymous benefactor."

"I don't think this worked out the way I thought it would."

"No." Damian seems pleased, "But…you did have _decent_ advice." Now he seems awkward. "I…"

"Still, not quite the resolution I was thinking of." Dick swirls the liquid around in the glass.

Damian presses his fingers on the edge of the bar, "I was…_wondering_…if I could come back…in the case that I need advice again."

Dick blinks, "Well, it's not _my_ bar."

"It's your time."

Dick hums, "I guess it is. No, I don't mind. Come back whenever. Tuesdays are usually when we're least crowded, if that makes a difference to you."

Damian nods slowly, storing the information away. "I…erm, thank you."

Dick laughs, "Don't _hurt_ yourself."

Damian scowls, his cheekbones flushing slightly. He gets up, making for the door as Dick's laughter rises.

"See you soon," Dick calls as Damian slips out of the bar.

Damian continues to show up every few weeks before he asks Dick out, clearly floundering and expecting the worst. Dick can't help but tease him a little before he accepts the invitation. He isn't sure how they'll turn out, or what crazy things they'll get up to along the way.

All he knows is that Kori is glad to finally have a customer with expensive tastes.


	6. Spin the Bottle

**Warning: This chapter is Jason/Damian.**

* * *

"Todd has been cheating."

The party jumps as the voice comes from above them. Damian is leaning over the back of the couch, chin resting on his palm, expression unamused. They didn't even hear him come in.

"Damian," Dick begins slowly. It's not that he wanted to exclude the boy, but Damian has made it clear he isn't interested in playing 'foolish games' with the rest of them, "You can't cheat at spin the bottle."

"Obviously, you can." Damian scoffs, not moving, "He's been calculating where it will land. His wrist tenses just slightly when he points it at Drake, and his fingers twitch when he points it at you."

Tim and Dick both look to Jason who takes another sip of beer, "Lies and slander."

"_Really_, Jason?" Tim shakes his head.

"I am not ashamed." Jason says.

"Drake's been cheating as well." Damian continues, "Depending on which part of the bottle he holds."

"Am I the _only_ _one_ playing this game _fairly_?" Dick cries, "Come _on_!"

"I do not understand the intention of this game." Damian announces, "If you want to exchange bodily fluid, why do you need a bottle to tell you how to do it?"

Jason begins to cackle as Tim ducks his head and Dick stares, "Damian, you can't use those words to describe this game. Not if you value our sanity."

"What sanity?" Damian scoffs.

"Kid, do you even know what this game is? Have you even _been_ kissed?" Jason's laughter dies down throughout the questions, "Who are you nice enough to tuh make someone _want_ to?"

Damian frowns, "I am not incompetent, Todd. I've been kissed."

"Your mommy doesn't count," Jason titters.

"Jay," Dick sighs, "Stop antagonizing him. Damian, nobody likes a tattle-tale, even if you guys _are_ being unfair."

"Come _on_. Let's let the brat join, Dick. I bet that's why you were hanging around, right?" Jason grins at Damian, "You're what, fifteen now? Old enough for some light tongue action."

"_Jason_!" Dick's mouth drops open.

Tim groans, dreading where this is going.

Damian frowns, eyes darting between them. Jason doesn't think he's ever seen the kid look so unsure. Wow. He _really_ doesn't get out much, does he? "You think I'm lying?"

"About being kissed?" Jason quirks a brow, "_Yeah_."

Damian scowls deeply, examining Jason with guarded eyes. He surprises them all when he stops around the couch, dropping to his knees at Jason's side and tugging the man closer with by the sides on his unzipped jacket.

He smashes their lips together in a way that seems painful from Dick's surprised perspective but has Jason offering up a small groan. Damian pulls back only to lick his way into Jason's mouth, jaw moving enticingly as he does it.

Tim has stopped staring at the ground, instead staring at the spectacle the boys are making with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Dick thinks he probably looks the same.

The two stay connected by the mouths for a few more moments before Damian puts a palm on Jason's chest and shoves. Jason falls back against the floor, eyes blown and bottom lip shining. Damian wipes his mouth the back of his hand, settling back against the floor with a superior glint in his eyes.

"So," He looks to the other two, "How _do_ you play?"


	7. Stuck Someplace Together

"This is entirely your fault, Grayson."

Dick sighs, willing away the tick threatening to start in his eye. "Yes, _Damian_, you've _said_."

Damian scowls, tugging his hand experimentally. Dick's wrist jerks along with the movement and he scowls at the boy, "_Stop_ that."

Damian sneers, dropping his wrist and letting them both clunk against the edge of the box they are sharing.

It should _not_ be this difficult to get out of a pair of handcuffs. It _really_ shouldn't be. Dick knows twenty different ways to free himself from cuffs, and Damian probably knows more. How they can't manage to get out of this simple pair is beyond the both of them.

Dick sighs, tapping his heels against the side of the box. They've been stuck in this windowless room for the last…_god_, eight _hours_ _now_? Dick isn't sure anyone even realizes they're gone. After all, Damian was supposed to be spending the night with Dick to work on his more acrobatic-type skills at Bruce's behest.

Not bashed over the head during patrol and locked up wherever the hell they are.

Damian's knees are pulled up to his chin, the heels of his boots resting against the edge of the box. The hood of his cape is pulled over his head, shadowing the upper half of his face. If Dick didn't know better, he'd say Damian is _pouting_.

"We are _vigilantes_!" Damian bares his teeth at nothing, "Why can we not escape a simple pair of _fucking_ _handcuffs_!"

"Hey, language." He frowns at the seething boy, "Is it really that bad? I mean, at least you're stuck here with _me_, right?"

"How does that qualify as 'not bad'?" Damian snaps.

Dick frowns, "There's no need to be mean, Damian."

"This is your fault. If you hadn't been such an _idiot_ on patrol then-"

"So I got distracted!" Dick finally yells, throwing his hands in the air, the movement dragging Damian's wrist up as well. "What do you want me to say, Damian? It's _happens_!"

"You got _distracted_," Damian snaps back, "because _you_ were so busy thinking that I couldn't take _care_ of myself that _you_ left _yourself_ wide open! I _will not_ be your _weakness_, Grayson!"

Dick stills, words halting in his mind. "You…what?"

"_I_ will _not_ be your weakness," Damian repeats. He's glaring, not a hint of embarrassed flush on him. He's serious, Dick realizes, completely and utterly serious.

"Damian…" Dick blinks, "You aren't a weakness. Caring about other people is a _strength_. I thought you understood that by now."

"It isn't a strength if you end up _dead_." Damian retorts. "I will not be _responsible_ for you."

"Damian, I'm not sure if this is your round-about way of saying you care about me, but I'm going to pretend it is." Dick wiggles his hand around until he's locking fingers with Damian. "And I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

"You've said _that_ before."

"Dami…" Dick sighs, "That was different. You _know_ it was. I'm not Batman."

"You could be." Damian replies, tone a little softer. "You were a good Batman."

"I was _a_ good Batman. I wasn't Batman." Dick squeezes Damian's fingers, surprised and pleased when the boy doesn't pull away with a scoff or snarl. "Doesn't mean you weren't a good Robin."

Damian frowns, staring ahead with a strange, far-away glint in his eye. "Our partnership was good."

It sounds like a question.

"The best," Dick smiles the now-short distance down between them. Damian is getting taller. Pretty soon he'll be taller than Dick (of course, the only member of the family who _won't_ is Tim, so).

"I miss working with you."

It's completely uncharacteristic of Damian to say, especially in the situation they're in. Dick blinks, stunned. It's a compliment. Not a half-compliment, or a back-handed compliment, but a _genuine_ compliment. From _Damian_.

"I-"

"But," Damian blinks, disentangling their fingers and moving his hand as far back as the chain connecting the cuffs will allow, "Nightwing doesn't have a partner."

Dick doesn't know what to call the feeling welling up in his stomach. He doesn't like it.

"Hey," Dick pushes the hood back, ruffling Damian's hair but gaining no reaction. "Tonight, he does."

Damian blinks, understanding and doubt creeping into his eyes.

"Yeah," Dick repeats, more for himself than Damian, "Tonight he does."


	8. Sex Pollen - Redirect

**Due to the explicit content in Chapter 8 (it's the sex pollen trope) I have only posted it on AO3 and Tumblr, which are both linked on my profile page. **


	9. Soul Mates

Damian has known his entire life. He's known since birth, since living at the compound with Talia and Ra's. Since before Gotham. Before even meeting the man who became Batman.

Things are different this time. It's more than just knowing. Damian _remembers_ things. He never remembers. Not until the end.

But it isn't the end, and he remembers.

He remembers being the son of a trial chief, important and wanted, sneaking into the shadows for trysts with his male lover – his soul mate. He remembers breathlessness, and confessions, and he remembers getting caught and watching his lover be executed.

Black.

He remembers being the son of a poor merchant, finding a wounded traveler on his route home. She has a beautiful smile and her laugh is even better. She laughs at his poor attempt at humor and lets him help her back to his home. He remembers they marry three weeks later, and confessions, and then a raid on their village that ends in her death.

He remembers living in the time of the pharaohs as a royal advisor to the youngest prince. He remembers falling for a young man in the prince's harem. He remembers dark corners and quick affections and he remembers confessing. He remembers the prince taking what he thought was his and killing the young man for refusing him.

Black.

He remembers being the daughter of a fallen king. She's nervous, her kingdom has been conquered and she's to be kept as some kind of prize, but he comes in and he's gentle and kind. He remembers not saying it for a long time, not until well after their daughter is born. He remembers finally whispering it just as he falls asleep, just loud enough for him to hear. He remembers waking up to a dead body, assassinated in his sleep.

Black.

Damian remembers all of his pasts. The cycle is always the same.

Meet, confess, death. Meet, confess, death.

Like a terrible punishment.

So, this time, Damian isn't going to say anything.

Ever.

He's not going to say it as Dick ruffles his hair and says "look how big you've gotten, little d!" and he's not going to say anything when Nightwing grabs his hood to keep him from going over a roof.

He's not going to say anything when Dick kidnaps him for a surprise sixteenth birthday party or when Dick gifts him a set of exquisite katanas that Damian knows he's owned _before_. He's not going to say anything when Dick smiles at him, pulls him closer for a family picture, and picks him up because "it's probably the last time you'll be small enough!"

He doesn't say anything when Dick meets _her_.

She's his type, red hair, curvy waist, stellar personality. She laughs at his jokes and smiles back when he smiles at her. She's intelligent and kind, reaching out to make bonds with Dick's so-called brothers even when a certain one (Damian) makes it decidedly _difficult_.

He doesn't say anything when they get serious.

He doesn't protest it. He doesn't say what he's thinking (Dick is _mine_. He should be with _me_.) He doesn't spend more time than necessary with Dick outside of bi-monthly team-ups for cases when Batman starts questioning him.

He doesn't say anything because he doesn't want Dick to die.

Not in this lifetime, and not in the next.

If he doesn't say anything, Dick won't have to die again.

His past concurs. They watch Dick from afar, mourning, loving, ever-present. They comfort Damian when the heartache gets too painful. Bring up good memories when he needs them.

All it does is remind Damian that every time Dick has died, it's been his fault.

So he'll watch from the sidelines. Watch Dick get married. Watch Dick become a father. Watch Dick grow old with someone else.

It's a small comfort that he dies before Dick.

He doesn't think he could have taken it much longer anyway.

and when he's reborn, he remembers nothing, and there's a man lying beside him with a familiar smile and a warm laugh.


	10. Deserted Island

"_Fantastic_."

Tim sighs, running his hand through his hair. For once he has to agree with Damian. This was not good; marooned on some Oceanic island with no communication devices and a plane sinking under the sea water as they speak, the pilot having abandoned the plane long before the crash.

"I couldn't have been marooned with Grayson, or _Todd_?" Damian is muttering to himself, kicking sand up with his dress shoes. They are supposed to be arriving in Hong Kong for an important Wayne Tech meeting. Obviously that is not going to occur.

"Damian, shut up." Tim frowns at the smaller boy. Smaller for not much longer, it seems. Damian is almost taller than him already and he's_ six years _his junior (or, at least, Tim _thinks_ he is. He's not sure how old Damian actually _is_), "and start thinking of a way to get off this island."

"You must be joking, Drake. There _is_ no way off this island." Damian looks around, "We'll be stuck here until Father or someone else notices we're missing."

Tim sighs, "Fantastic."

"I _said_ that." Damian scowls, "I _suppose_ it could be worse. Survival skills _were_ the first things Mother taught me."

"_Great_, so we can skin harmless animals for dinner and make a fire from sticks." Tim throws his hands up, "_Just_ like camping."

Damian doesn't seem to get it, "I do not know what kind of camping _you_ are doing, but it does not sound orthodox."

"It was a _joke_," Tim closes his eyes, "A. Joke."

Damian scoffs, "Ridiculous. I say we split up. I have a better chance at survival without you around."

"No, we stick together, because when Bruce comes for us he won't be happy if we're separated." Tim frowns, "We _should_ find shelter though, just in case it rains."

"-tt- Whatever. _You_ find shelter."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"Weaponizing."

:::

It's been two days since their abandonment and they've set up a system. Damian finds them food (apparently something he is good at thanks to Talia's A+ parenting skills) and Tim finds them firewood. Damian cooks and Tim salvages drinkable water.

All in all, it's not completely horrible.

Tim would go as far as to say they bond.

"What is it like?" Damian asks quietly on the second night. He's lying in the sand and staring up at the billions of stars reflected in his eyes.

"What is what like?" Tim is digging his heels into the sand, searching for the good, wet stuff underneath.

Damian doesn't answer for a long while, and then, "Being everyone's favorite."

"I'm not everyone's favorite." Tim frowns at the thought, "I'm not _anyone's_ favorite."

"You are," Damian frowns back at him, "Father's, and Grayson's, and most likely Todd's."

"That isn't even close to true. Jason slit my throat when he came back to life, I don't think he wants us to be buddies." Tim tilts his head, "Besides, for all his bluster, Bruce is his favorite. Always will be."

Damian makes a noise.

"Then we have Dick, who can't pick a favorite. Seriously, he can't. Whoever is in the room with him is probably his favorite." Tim allows a small grin at the thought.

"But my father likes you best." Damian says, "You can't deny that."

"Bruce likes Dick best. He was the first. The best." Tim shrugs, "He might not know it, but it's there. Dick was kind of the first person to soften Bruce up. Bruce owes him a lot."

Tim turns towards him, "And I know damn well I'm not your favorite. Do you even _have_ favorite?"

"Cassandra is acceptable." Damian replies without a beat, "Though of the partners I've worked with, I worked best with Grayson."

"Mm." Tim rests his chin on his knees, "I guess, by that logic, Steph or Bruce would be _my_ favorite."

Damian doesn't reply, lost in his thoughts and the stars.

:::

The helicopter arrives on the fifth night, long after the boys have passed out from heat and blatant exhaustion. Bruce steps out of the body, followed closely by Dick.

"Told you." Dick replies lightly, waving his hand at where the boys are sprawled on the sand.

"I still do not agree with this idea, Dick. How you disguised Jason to the point that they didn't recognize him doesn't make me any more supportive of this."

"They needed to bond, Bruce." Dick grins as they come closer to the sleeping figures. "Aw. Look at them."

Tim is sprawled on his back, one arm pillowing his head, the other wrapped in Damian's grip. Damian himself is on his side, holding Tim's arm as if it were a pillow, one leg thrown over Tim's knees.

"They passed out, Dick. This is not okay."

"Then why did you let it happen?" Dick sings, "You needed them to tolerate each other, and you couldn't think of a better plan."

"Well," Bruce frowns as Dick leans down to disentangle the boys' limbs, "When they are at each other's throats the moment society is in sight, you will have lost this bet."


	11. Met in a Dream

Wayne Manor stares him down, imposing and regal. The sky beyond the Manor is purple, clouds brushed across like smears of paint. The breeze brushes against his skin, through his hair, warm like sunshine.

It's a dream.

It has to be.

Wayne Manor isn't nearly this grungy, vines climbing up the walls, the grass overgrown and scraggly. Damian is also certain the sky can't get this shade of purple.

He turns, looking around at the grounds. There are large gates that he doesn't remember, dark and rusted. A path leads to the graveyard on his left, wide-open space on his right. There are no sounds, no birds or insects. Not even the wind makes noise.

Strange. Usually his dreams mean something, but he can't imagine this has anything to do with anything.

"Damian?" A voice sounds from behind him.

Damian spins, ready to defend himself. What he sees makes him stop.

A girl, older than him, dressed in a suit that reminds Damian of Batgirl. Hers is different, however, with blooms of purple and a slightly altered symbol. Blonde hair tumbles from under her cowl, blue eyes tinged with surprise.

"Who are _you_?" He demands.

The girl looks around, as if expecting someone else, "You have _got_ to be kidding me, Cass. How am I supposed to talk to him?"

There is no reply to her question, and she sighs, answering regardless, "I know, I know."

"Who _are_ you?" Damian demands again. He isn't going to be ignored in his own dream.

The girl puts her hands on her hips, "_Oh boy_. Okay, okay. _Hi_, Damian. Do you know you I am?"

Damian narrows his eyes. He's been told you never meet strangers in dreams, but he knows he's never seen this woman before. "No."

"You don't." The woman frowns, "Oh. Well, call me Batgirl."

"Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, you _idi_-"

"_Babs_ is Batgirl over there?" The woman grins, "Huh. Makes sense, I guess. Who's Oracle?"

"…_who_?"

"There's _no_ Oracle?" Now the woman frowns, "Then how do you get all your international info? Who runs the Birds of Prey?" She halts, appearing to listen to words Damian can't hear, "Right. Sorry. Off track."

"Are you _damaged_?"

"I-. No!" She grimaces, "Just like old times, huh? Look, Damian, I need you to listen to me. I have a message for you."

Damian inclines his head, "Why should I listen to you? This is a _dream_."

"…then say I'm your subconscious," She waves a hand, "_Listen_. You, Bruce, Dick, Tim, everyone? You're all stu-"

The ground under their feet surges, rumbling and cracking. The Manor starts deteriorating, the farthest reaches of the sky bleeding white.

The woman looks around, "Damn! You're waking up!"

Damian looks around, watching as the world is slowly taken by white. He's surprised when the girl surges forward, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a hard shake.

"Something isn't right with your world, Damian. You _have_ to have noticed." She drops to his height, "Don't forget this, alright? You need to tell the others so we can all be together again, you hear me?"

Damian furrows his eyebrows, "I don't…who are you?"

"…I wish I could tell you, brat." She ruffles his hair with a grin that is reminiscent of Grayson, "Remember. Look around. Open your eyes a little. Do some detective work, and _remember_ _this_. We'll meet again, and you can call me all the creative little shitty things you always do."

Damian closes his eyes, retort on his lips.

When he opens them, it isn't a woman he's staring at, but his father leaning over him. "Damian?"

Damian shifts, feels the body of Titus pressed behind him, tail moving on the floor by his spread of documents.

"Father?" He squints, "What…?"

"Time for patrol." Bruce frowns, taking in Damian's appearance, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I just…" Damian blinks, "Must have had a weird dream."


	12. Arranged Marriage

Dick stares out the window as the scenery passes by, mind numb and stomach sinking. This is really happening. Bruce is really letting this happen. He doesn't want to believe it, but they're getting closer and closer to their destination.

Bruce is sitting across from him, staring pointedly at his crossed legs rather than at Dick. The silence is all-consuming, bearing down on Dick as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Dick," Bruce finally speaks, "You're going to be okay."

"How?" Dick turns, letting his eyes show his anger, "You're sending me into a den of snakes."

"It's the only way," Bruce frowns, "Talia has made it clear that if we don't unite our families, Gotham will pay the price."

"So fight her!" Dick's voice jumps an octave, "Bruce, you've _never_ given up without a good fight. Why are you rolling over and taking this?"

Bruce sighs, "This way we always have a pair of eyes and ears within the League."

"So I'm a _pawn_?" If Dick could jump to his feet, he would, "This is some _game_ to you?"

"You are the best choice. You're personable. You're adaptable. I won't have to worry about you changing your allegiance."

"You're implying that Tim isn't? Steph?"

"Stephanie is not involved in this, and Tim has too many questionable ties to Ra's al Ghul. I can't afford for Cassandra to leave her station in Hong Kong. Talia _knows_ Jason. She would guess his moves before he made them. You're the only one." Bruce takes a breath, "This isn't permanent. We'll destroy the League from the inside out, and then you'll come home."

"That's _your_ plan, Bruce. It's not a great one. It's not even a good one." Dick leans back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car. "Have you even _met_ the guy I'm supposed to get hitched to?"

Bruce nods, "Damian. He's…his mother's son."

Dick snorts without humor, "Nothing like you?"

"In some aspects." Bruce uncrosses his legs, "He's-"

The car pulls to a stop and Bruce sighs, "I suppose you're about to find out."

:::

The al Ghul building went up almost overnight, but it is no less elaborate than any of the bases Dick has been in before (not that he had much time to look around before they blew up). Decorated in various Bohemian and Indian themes, expensive furniture, and large chandeliers, the building looks more like an upscale hotel than a base of operations for a ruthless league of killers.

He follows Bruce through the front doors, tense and waiting to be swarmed with Talia's ninja. Instead, they are met in the lobby by Talia herself, dressed in a long, flowing gown. Her hair is pulled up in an elaborate bun, bangs framing her face.

Dick can see what first caught Bruce's eye. He can. She's devastatingly beautiful and equally powerful. He just wishes that she hadn't turned out to be an enemy.

"Beloved," Talia greets, waiting for them to walk to her, "Richard."

"Talia," Bruce replies, "Where is Damian?"

Talia's lips tighten for a moment, and Dick isn't sure if she's holding back a smile or a grimace. "He is getting ready. His sparring match lasted longer than anticipated."

Bruce frowns, looking around the room so he doesn't have to look at Talia. Dick would, under most circumstances, joke to lighten the mood. As it is, he doesn't feel like it. Bruce can suffer in silence for all he cares.

"Richard," Talia addresses him too familiarly, "What has Beloved told you about our son?"

Dick shifts his weight between his feet. Talia has always made him feel a little out of place. Steph has a theory that each of them has a particular villain they work well with, banter and so on, and Talia is _not_ his. Speaking to her is like a blast from the dark ages. Her language, the way she moves, the way she expects everyone to bow down to her. She's a queen, in her own right, and she makes sure everyone knows it.

"Not much," He finally settles on. "Nothing at all, really."

"Mm." Talia eyes Bruce with what looks like dry amusement, "What would you like to know."

"Well, _nothing_, really." He replies with just as much spite.

Talia looks back to him, mouth falling into a frown. "Your humor ceases to entertain, circus boy."

Dick grumbles, muttering some choice words in his own language.

"I can assume you don't know how old Damian is, correct?" Talia lifts a thin eyebrow.

Dick frowns, "What does that mean? My age, right? That's the whole point of this thing."

Talia shares a look with Bruce and hums. "This will be…interesting, to say the least."

:::

Damian is fifteen.

Damian is _fifteen_.

Dick literally cannot wrap his head around it. When they heard that Bruce had a son, they had just assumed he must have been conceived before Bruce started hoarding orphans. But Damian is a _teenager_. In Dick's shaky timeline, Bruce would have…shortly after Jason came into the family.

Which, in a lot of ways, is fucked up. Raises a lot of questions. Were they not good enough for Bruce? Did they disappoint him so much that he needed to go sire his own son? Dick doesn't know, and he knows the instant the others find out about this, they'll be thinking the same thing.

Especially Jason.

So, yeah, Damian is fifteen.

And, clearly, not happy about this.

"And how is a _marriage_ supposed to ensure that Father will not continue trying to destroy the League, _Mother_?"

His tone is haughty and snide, eyebrows pinched together and eyes guarded and untrusting. Dick doesn't blame him. He knew this was a bad idea.

"Marriage is sanctity, Damian." Talia leans forward on the table, "Beloved wouldn't desecrate that." She looks pointedly at Bruce.

Damian snorts, disbelief clear. "It is interesting that you expect that excuse to work considering the state of _your_ relationship."

"Damian," Talia warns, "This is done. You can't talk your way out of it, so do cease trying."

"Mother, he's _ancient_!" Damian points.

"_Hey_! I'm not even thirty!" Dick frowns, folding his arms. This kid…he doesn't think he'll last one week with this kid. "But, you know what, I have to partially agree. You can't force me to marry a minor, and you sure as hell can't force a minor to get hitched with an adult."

"I'm the daughter of the Demon's Head, I can do anything I want to do." Talia replies smoothly, "As for your other concerns, no one is forcing you to consummate this, or even care about each other."

"What was that about the sanctity of marriage?" Dick drawls.

"I'm _saying_ that your concerns are easily dissipated. Caring for each other will come with time."

Damian makes a small sound caught between a stutter and a scoff. Talia gives him a _look_.

"Perhaps," Bruce finally speaks up, "Dick would feel more comfortable with this if he were in a familiar environment. An environment that promoted the feelings you're speaking of."

"And what do you suggest?" Talia inclines her head.

"The boy," Bruce spares a glance at his son and Dick is hit with the realization that Bruce hasn't acknowledged his presence before this moment. Strange. Worth pondering over later. "Comes to the Manor."

"Out of the question."

"Not forever." Bruce replies swiftly, "Simply…until he is of age. Three years. Then we'll return him to you, Dick along with him, just like we agreed. It will also ensure you keep your end of the deal to leave Gotham be."

"No."

"Talia, be fair. You've had fifteen years with the boy. What can I undo in three?" Bruce reasons.

Talia frowns, looking between Bruce and Dick. She is quiet for a long time before leaning back in her seat, "The second he turns eighteen-"

"_Mother_-!"

"-you _will_ return him to me."

"Mother!" Damian looks bewildered and betrayed, "What about the League? My training? Grandfather will-"

"Father will deal with the information however he wishes," Talia says. "If you must, think of _this_ as training."

Dick glances at Bruce, slightly thrown off. "What just happened?" He whisperers.

Bruce looks between mother and son, "Will that be all?"

:::

After the ceremony (signing a measly piece of paper) and the silent car ride home, Dick spends the rest of the evening with his overjoyed siblings. Steph barely lets him out of her sight, joking and punching his shoulder and generally being _Steph_ (it's good. Dick needs that). Tim smiles at him, slight and happy, holding his commentary for later, when it's just them. Jason stays on the fringe, but it's obvious that he's glad Dick is back.

Alfred makes them cookies while Ace follows Dick's heels all night. He hasn't seen Titus, but the dog has never really been as friendly as Ace.

Damian, for his part, has been in the study with Bruce since they got back from the al Ghul building. Dick isn't sure what they're talking about – rules probably – but he's glad for the reprieve.

At the end of the night, Dick finds Bruce's son lingering in one of the halls, Titus trailing behind him curiously. Dick could let it go. Ignore him. He has every right, even if they are legally bound now. There are no emotional ties. No greater calling to check on him.

Still, that's not really who Dick is.

"Hey," He calls, getting a reaction from Titus before he gets one from Damian.

The boy glances up, expression mixed. He looks…displaced. Barely concealing hurt. He looks like Dick would have looked if he would have had to stay with the al Ghuls. "What?" He snaps, tone full of anger and pain.

At least, it sounds like that to Dick. "I know this is…weird. But, well, it's not…" Dick sighs, "Look, I know Talia has probably warned you against trusting us, or letting B or anyone get close to you while you're here…but we're sort of stuck in the same boat, here, so…if you need to talk to anyone…I'll listen."

For a moment, Damian looks surprised. Then his expression twists, covering everything but anger, "-_tt_- You're as ridiculous as you are ignorant. I don't need to be pitied."

Dick sighs. He tried. "Okay. Fine, whatever." He moves past Damian, absentmindedly patting Titus' head on the way.

He doesn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that Damian hasn't stopped staring.


	13. Handcuffed

**implied NSFW content**

* * *

"_How_ do you lose the keys to a pair of _handcuffs_, Todd?"

"Shut up, brat." Jason wiggles Damian's wrist, attempting to slide the metal ring over his bone. When that doesn't work, he sighs, dropping his hand and scowling, "How can you not pick the lock?"

"Same to _you_," Damian shoots back, baring his teeth. "I am supposed to be going on patrol tonight. It would be in your best interest to _find the key_."

"Oh, stuff it." Jason twists Damian's linked arms, "Like _I_ don't have things to do?"

"Doubtably as important."

"Shut up, you brat." Jason sighs, leaning his weight against Damian without warning, "How long before _Daddy_ _dearest_ gets here to find out what's keeping you?"

"Father is on patrol." Damian replies tersely.

"So _when_?"

"After he is finished, I'd assume." Damian wiggles against him.

"Kid, you really don't want to be doing that."

Damian stills, "You…_behemoth_."

"Behemoth? _Really_? You're the one who _asked_ me to cuff you-"

"I-"

"You're the one who wouldn't stop _begging_-"

"I was not-!"

"So don't go getting a high-and-mighty attitude with me. You're lucky B already _knows_ we're having sex, or this would be really awkward for him to walk in on."

Damian scowls, "We have not had sex yet!"

"Tonight." Jason points, "Because _someone_ wanted to make sure the handcuffs could come off before we got started."

"And I was _right_ to be concerned, obviously."

"Alright, Damian. We can sit here and talk about this all day, _or_, we can get some use out of these before Bruce shows up.


	14. Stripper

Dick counts the dollar bills leisurely, smiling when he reaches the final amount. Not bad. Two bachelorette parties later and he has enough to pay the utilities bill this month and then some. Dick slides the money in his back pocket, pushing off the brick and heading for home. That's the good thing about living in the city; he's never too far away from work.

Work. Well. Some people would say otherwise. Taking your clothes of professionally looks a little strange on a résumé. It's what he's good at though, and what he's always been good at. He's bounced between agencies and themes, but he's never quite left the wondrous world of male strippers.

Huh.

That _could_ have something to do with his relationship status.

Or, lack thereof.

Dick is great with the romantic stuff, but eventually all of his partners get tired of his career. It's true for his current boyfriend as well, though Damian is at least making an effort to be understanding.

He doesn't like it, but he hasn't come out and said anything.

Dick is grateful for that small restraint. He's not going to quit. He likes what he does. He has fun, he's good at it, and he's always got cash.

Damian would make the argument that if Dick wanted, he could take any money he needed from Damian himself, but Dick isn't going to be a charity case.

Speaking of Damian, Dick is fairly certain he's waiting at his apartment. If the short texts asking where he is are anything to go by, anyway. His original plans to swing by his favorite bakery are shelved, although he's fairly sure he can convince Damian to go with him later, and he heads home.

When he enters his apartment, Damian is pacing the living room floor, snapping at someone on the other line of his cellphone. Dick closes the door quietly, offering a slight wave when Damian glances over. Apparently that's enough of a lapse for the other person to say some choice words, because Damian's expression morphs into a deep scowl and he's off again.

To be completely honest, Dick doesn't really understand Damian's job. He knows Damian works for his father – Bruce Wayne of all people – and he knows Damian is something like a lawyer for the company, but aside from that? Dick could honestly care less. He's dated all sorts of people, from the high end to the low. Damian is certainly at the higher end, compared to some of the people Dick has seen, but it doesn't faze him.

"I already told you, don't settle. In fact, don't answer your phone until I've seen you tomorrow morning. Don't answer for your friends, or your family, or even your boss."

Damian's scowl deepens as he listens to the other end. He moves, sitting on the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to win or not?"

Dick walks over, sitting on the arm of the couch and sliding his fingers through Damian's hair. For a moment, Damian tenses, but when Dick's fingers fall to his neck to rub circles on his skin, he relaxes against the back of his seat.

"No." Damian drops his hand from his face, "I am going to hang up on you if you even suggest that again. Well you aren't going to get very far if you don't _listen_…"

Whatever the other person says makes Damian pull the phone from his ear. He ends the call, tossing his phone to the floor.

"Rough day?" Dick smiles, chuckling when Damian shoots him a glare.

"Yes." He replies tersely, "My father's employees are all _idiots_."

"If it makes you feel better, I spent my day surrounded by a group of 40-something year olds who all had a bit too much to drink."

"That hardly makes me feel better." Damian says, "Unless there were cats."

Dick frowns. He's never had good luck with cats. There's something about taking off your clothes for money that cats just don't seem to like. He's been attacked by more than a few furry little creatures.

"There _was_ a cat, actually, and he side-eyed me the entire time I was there."

"Oh." Damian sounds smug, "Well, that helps."

Dick pitches off the arm of the couch, landing on the cushions and laying across Damian's thighs. He smiles up at his...well boyfriend seems like a weird word to apply to Damian but it's what he is. "You look like you could use a little relaxation."

Damian lifts an eyebrow, "And what do you suggest?" His hands travel their usual path to Dick's hair, brushing it away from his face almost subconsciously.

"Well I need to wash up because I smell like way too much perfume." Dick says, "We could take a bath. Or a shower. I hear water is very good for tense muscles."

"Ah."

"I hear some _other_ things you can do in a shower are good for tension too," Dick wages his eyebrows, grinning widely.

"Are you going to use your stripper wiles on me, Grayson?"

"Only if you want me to," Dick sits up, kissing Damian's cheek. "Either way, I'm taking shower. You're more than welcome to join me."

He rolls off the couch, landing on the arches of his feet. Dick bounces up, heading to the bathroom, already pulling off his shirt. It takes stripping down, turning on the water, and actually getting in the shower before Damian follows him, but Dick is proud to say that he's much more relaxed when they're done.


	15. Office Romance

There really is something to be said for a man in a good suit. Whoever taught that to his boss taught him well. A little too well, perhaps, considering he hasn't been able to keep his eyes from straying towards the glass walls that frame Damian Wayne's office.

Tim scowls at himself, directing his eyes back to his paperwork. Fine. He can admit that maybe his boss is especially attractive in a suit. Maybe it does bring out a nice contrast to his darker skin and maybe the tie does make his eyes shine. It doesn't change the fact that, concerning personality, Damian is not someone Tim wants to get mixed up with.

Not to mention office romance is a bad idea to begin with.

Tim is pretty replaceable as far as work is concerned. He's just a paper pusher. He can't afford to even entertain thoughts that risk him losing his job. Things would be different if he accepted the offer to be on the board of the university he graduated from, or one of the vital employees in Wayne Tech's research and development field. But he hadn't. He'd chosen the desk route, working in the finance department of the company, under the CEO's son.

It's a boring job, certainly, but Tim has always been good with numbers. He has plenty of opportunities to enjoy himself on the weekends…_outside_ of Gotham (because none of his friends were stupid enough to move to Gotham after college).

Tim taps the end of his pen against his desk, eyes travelling slowly back to his boss's office. Damian is in deep conversation with someone Tim can't see. He's leaning against the edge of his desk, loosening his tie while he talks. _Oh_. Wow.

Tim averts his eyes. That image does too many good things to him.

But. Work first.

Tim can imagine his boss later, at home, where no one can catch him.


	16. 7 Mns in Heaven

Damian does not expect his first experience with this game to involve being shoved against the wall or having a tongue in his mouth that most certainly isn't his. He'd been expecting a tense, insult-filled seven minutes. Not a…

Not _this_.

"Drake! What are you doing?" Damian manages to complain, though, when Tim pulls away for air.

"Playing the game, Damian." Tim replies easily, as if it hasn't been months since he was backpacking around Europe with Damian's deranged grandfather (or whatever it was he was doing).

As if he has a right to waltz back to Titans Tower and spend recreational time with the team he'd abandoned.

"I should bite off your tongue," Damian is mostly serious with his insult.

"Aw," Tim is mostly mocking. "I missed you too, you demon brat."


	17. NoblePeasant

"I can tie my boots _myself_, Grayson."

Dick lifts an eyebrow at Damian's haughty tone. "Can you, now?"

"Of course," The little lord scoffs, jerking his foot from Dick's hands and bending to lace the boot up himself. It's not often that Damian goes into town these days, what with Talia raising taxes on livestock and Bruce preparing for the arrival of Damian's grandfather.

Dick is almost certain he's the only one Damian sees on a daily basis anymore, and peasant of not, he knows Damian is partially grateful for the stability. Dick may not be able to tutor him in anything, but he can at least be _there_.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? The townspeople might riot."

"That's why I have a _Guard_, Grayson," Damian rolls his eyes as if Dick is the most insufferable person he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. "If you're so concerned, then come along."

Dick smiles, "I'd rather not. With the rain we had yesterday, the town is sure to smell like the swamp. At least it's only _barely_ noticeable here."

"If a lord can stand the smell, so can a lowborn like _you_."

Dick knows Damian doesn't mean it the way it comes out, but the words are enough to bring a frown to his lips. Damian must sense something wrong, though, because he suddenly looks awkward.

"I want you to come, Grayson. You're my attendant, I shouldn't have to spell it out for you."

"You can ask nicely, but I'm not going to be ordered." Dick stares, expecting Damian to scoff and leave the room in an angry huff.

Instead, Damian clicks his tongue and averts his eyes, "_Will_ you come with me?"

"That's not how you ask someone for something. _You've_ taken etiquette classes, _my lord_. _You_ should know better."

Damian frowns, "You're making this unworthy of my time."

Dick blinks.

"-_tt_- _Fine_. Will you come with me, _please_?"

"That's more like it," Dick smiles. "And _yes_. I will."


	18. Orphans

Dick wakes up to a pounding on his door that mirrors the pounding in his head. He groans, burying his head further into his pillow and curling up on the mattress. His attempted respite is vanquished by the sound of his door opening and someone pressing their foot on the side of his bed.

"Wake up. Breakfast."

Dick groans, pulling the eye mask down around his neck and glaring up at the intruder, "Do you know what time I finally managed to get to sleep last night? _Do_ you?"

"You have work in an hour." Tim replies, tossing something moderately heavy on the covers, "Damian needs a ride to school."

Dick stares at the object on his sheets as Tim disappears down the hall. Dick lifts the silver Rolex from the bed, staring at it in confusion. "Where did you get this?" He yells after Tim. When he receives no answer, he begrudgingly rolls out of bed, padding down the stairs and into the cramped kitchen.

Tim is emptying eggs from the frying pan onto a large plate, turning off the stove and bringing the food to the table. Damian is sitting at said table, clad only in his boxers, looking more asleep than awake. Dick looks around the kitchen, holding up the watch, "Where did you get this?"

"Found it," Tim replies, sliding into an empty chair as Damian reaches for the plate of eggs. Tim slaps his hand away so he can divide the food into equal portions. "Nice, right?"

"Can certainly sell it for a pretty penny," Dick replies slowly, slipping the watch onto his wrist. "Where's Jay?"

"Didn't come home last night," Tim replies, taking a bite of his scrambled eggs, "Thought he had work."

Dick hums and turns to the refrigerator, peeking inside and checking the half-empty milk jug, "Expires soon."

"On it." Tim replies, holding up the day's paper, "Coupon central. I can swing by on the way home from school."

"You need money?"

"I have enough for a jug unless we need something else."

"That'll do for now." Dick saunters over to the table, plopping in the seat across from Tim and ruffling Damian's hair, "Morning kiddo."

Damian flattens his hair back down with a glare, forking a bite of food into his mouth with his free hand.

The temporary silence is quickly interrupted by the door swinging open and Jason walking in. "Am I too late for breakfast?" He leans over Tim, examining the table. "Ugh. Eggs again?"

"We can't afford anything else," Tim reminds him lightly, scowling when Jason picks a chunk from his plate with bare fingers.

"Got paid," Jason replies, tossing a wad of bills on the table.

Damian snatches the pile, flipping through until he's counted out some for himself and tosses the rest back down.

"Hey," Jason lightly smacks him on the back of the head.

Damian's glare intensifies at the assault, "I need school supplies."

"From the drug store?" Jason asks as he walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. "Get me some smokes while you're there."

"They aren't going to sell him cigarettes, Jay." Dick frowns as Jason comes back over to the table and plops down in the last chair.

"They will if he says they're for me."

"Because _that's_ teaching him good ethics."

Jason snorts, "Have you seen this family, D? Where exactly do you think I get my cash, huh?"

"I don't want to know." Dick says pointedly, "As long as you're not getting hurt doing it."

"Congratulations, wish granted." Jason stands up, leaning over the table to grab Damian's plate from him. "Come on, brat. I'll take you to school."

Tim sighs as Jason heads back out the door, plate in hand. Damian moves, running up the stairs and down the hall. He appears fully dressed a few moments later, jumping over the last steps and slamming the door behind him without so much as a goodbye.

Dick slumps back in his chair, running a hand through his stray locks, "What am I going to do with them?"

"Frame it as a double suicide?" Tim grins, ducking his head.

Dick shakes his head, snorting incredulously. "Morbid, Timmers. Morbid."

A sharp wail cuts through the room and Tim groans, pushing away from the table and pressing his fingers to his temples, "My turn?"

"You have school. I'll take care of Terry."

"You have work," Tim retorts.

"School. Now," Dick points to the door.

Tim turns slowly, opening the door and tossing a wave over his shoulder before it closes behind him. Dick sighs, getting up and heading for the living room where Terry has most likely spit up on himself again.


	19. Vampire

Tim – Drake – has always been different from them. Damian knows it. Feels it in his bones. He'd known it from day one; it's why he'd tried to get rid of him in the first place.

Drake is an anomaly.

He's _wrong_.

Damian just didn't know _how_ wrong.

They're sparring when it happens. Damian with his sword (though much duller than it used to be) and Tim with his bo-staff. They're both panting, near exhausted but unwilling to give in. Damian has a cut along his hairline from one of Tim's batarangs, though not deep enough to bleed. Tim has a bruise forming under his right eye.

It only takes one wrong move. One instance for Damian to slip and misstep in his dodge of Tim's next projectile. The metal nicks his cheek, drawing blood instantly. Damian doesn't flinch. At least, not from _that_.

He _does_ flinch when Drake's eyes are suddenly blown black, and he staggers back as if he's been punched. When Drake looks up again, his hair is covering most of his face, but it isn't covering the small, white fangs poking out from his lips.

Oh.

Well.

It makes more sense than some of his other theories.

(Though Damian isn't sure how he feels about being tackled to the ground and having his cheek licked by his predecessor.)


	20. Magic Spell

There is quite literally nothing Dick loves more than when his brothers are turned into babies. It's happened to each of them, though the times it's happened to Tim is substantially larger than the rest, and each and every time Dick names himself caretaker.

Dick is. Well, it's strange to consider himself ecstatic about Damian getting hit with a wayward magic spell and turning into a toddler, but he is. Damian is one of the cutest babies Dick has ever laid eyes on. He supposes it comes from Bruce and Talia's meshed genetics, but it doesn't matter. Damian is precious.

His eyes are brighter. His cheeks are soft and round. His arms are short and chubby and his little fingers are the cutest things. Granted, he doesn't seem that different as a baby than when he's ten. He's done nothing but glare at the room from where he sits at the metal table while Bruce runs tests.

Dick smiles at him from several feet away, cooing and wiggling his fingers. Tim throws his a look that he ignores. A sigh comes from the computer terminal, and Bruce turns to them. "Nothing seems to be wrong with him. I suppose this will simply wear off like every other time."

"We seriously need to arrest the guy who keeps doing this to us." Tim sighs, "I mean, he calls himself 'The Baby Maker'. He's corny _and_ inappropriate."

"So you're all done with testing?" Dick inquires.

Bruce sighs again, "Yes. You can take him."

Dick shoots out of the chair and is in front of Damian in two strides. The baby blinks and looks up at him, lips still pulled into a tiny frown. Dick can't help but coo at his tiny nose as he bends down to wrap his arms around the baby.

"Be careful, Dick." Bruce frowns.

"Oh, come on Bruce. I'm always the babysitter."

"I meant be careful _of_ him." Bruce sounds amused.

Dick straightens, a squirming Damian in his arms. "He's a baby, B. What is he going to do?"

Damian's little fingers press into his cheek, pulling and pinching skin.

"Ow! Damian, no!"

Damian makes a satisfied, very argumentative noise. Dick takes it to mean yes.

"You know," Tim says, "If he remembers any of this, he's going to kill you."

Damian twists to find the voice, expression darkening when his eyes land on Tim. He sticks out his bottom lip in the baby version of a sneer, babbling negatively.

"See," Tim blinks, "Nothing's changed."


	21. Superhero

"What about Bat Boy?" Jason snickers, "That hasn't been used yet."

"For obvious reasons," Tim replies dryly. "Besides, this costume doesn't resemble a bat."

"Eh," Jason shrugs. "I tried."

Damian frowns at them, "This is not a democracy. Why are you here?"

"To make sure you don't do something drastic. God forbid you become the next Discowing," Jason shudders.

Dick frowns over Damian's shoulder, "That was classic."

"It was _something_."

"If you are going to insist on staying," Damian frowns, "At least focus on my costume, not Grayson's old mistakes."

"Not you _too_, Damian." Dick looks particularly betrayed.

"Everyone, Dick," Tim replies. "Everyone."


	22. Online

It's the kitten videos do it. Steph sends it to Cass, who sends it to Tim and Dick, who sends it to Jason and Bruce.

Ironically, Damian does not get the video sent to him.

It's probably for the best. He already spends half his time playing video games. Watching endless hours of videos on youtube would only make his obsession with electronics worse.


	23. Mystical CreatureHuman

Damian is furious as he storms into his chambers, looking a breath away from murder. Dick frowns, feeling the force of Damian's rage through their bond. It's certainly not the most pleasant feeling, but Dick is more worried about what caused it than the actual feeling.

"What did they say?"

"As a show of good faith," Damian snarls, "They expect us to put an end to our dragons."

Dick feels his heart stutter, but he's fairly sure Damian is too angry to notice. He sits back on the plush couch, fingers playing with the intricate bracelet at his wrist that proves he's trained for battle.

"Ah."

"_Ah_?" Damian narrows his eyes, "It is not _Ah_."

"It makes sense," Dick takes a breath, "Dragons ravaged their country. Of course they'd want us gone."

"Grandfather _agreed_!" Damian shouts, "Drake was _in_ the _room_ and he _still_ agreed!"

Oh, _Tim_. Dick feels a moment of sorrow for his brother. Being Ra's al Ghul's pet had never been easy.

"They killed him?"

"No. They want a _public_ execution." Damian scowls, "They are _heathens_."

Dick smiles at his young rider, "It's a war, Damian. It brings out the worst in everyone."

"You're going to _die_!" Damian stomps forward, glaring down at the older man, "Don't you _care_?"

"Of course I _care_, Damian," Dick offers a smaller smile. "But I know what you're going to ask me to do, and I can't do that."

"…why not?"

"I can't just leave them. Tim is my brother. Jason is too. If I run, what kind of person does that make me?"

"You're going to _die_. For _them_?" Damian frowns, but it's no longer furious. Just sad. "You took an _oath_. You swore to only die for me. In battle, going down fighting, _with_ me."

"I know," Dick reaches out, brushing his fingers against Damian's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be _sorry_!" Damian snaps, "Be _alive_! Take your true form and run!"

"No, Damian."

"_Run_."

"No."

Damian holds his gaze for only a moment before jerking away. "Fine." He spins, intent clear – to Dick at least.

Dick grabs his wrist, stopping him, "Don't, Damian. We just finished this war, don't start another one."

Damian turns, "I don't care."

"You'd kill them all? Do the same thing to them as they're doing to us?"

"For you, _yes_." Damian replies with complete sincerity.

Dick drops his wrist, "I don't want you to."

Damian frowns, "I don't want you to _die_."

"Damian," Dick smiles, though it feels like it wavers, "Come on. It might be my last night on Earth. Can't you just spend it with me and hate them tomorrow?"

"That isn't _funny_, Grayson."

"I'm not trying to be." Dick stands, cupping Damian's face despite the boy's deep scowl. "I'm being serious. If it _is_ my last night alive, I want to spend it with you, not watch you get shot down for treason."

Damian inhales, "I would rather you run and _never see me again _than you stay and _die_."

"I know you would, but you know I'm not like that."

"I wish you were." Damian glares without heat.

Dick smiles, pressing their foreheads together, "I know you do."

Damian fists at Dick's shirt, "I don't want you to die."

"I kno-"

"I _love_ you."

Dick doesn't have an immediate response to that. He knows. He's always known. He felt it the moment Damian realized.

"I know." He loves Damian too. Damian knows that. He can feel it every time they ride out together. So he doesn't have to say it.

But he wants to.

"I love you," Dick tells him, pulling the boy into a close hug. "I'll wait for you up there. You know that." It's how the legends go, after all.

And even if they didn't, Dick would still wait.


	24. Mistletoe

Damian does _not_ like Poison Ivy's sidekick.

He's annoying, and chatty, and intrusive, and _green_, and-

And.

Unfairly attractive.

Mistletoe is his name (stupid, really). His real name is Richard something-or-other, but he only responds to Dick.

What's even _more_ unfair is that while Ivy focuses on the big picture, like covering Gotham in foliage, Dick focuses on the small things.

One of them being Robin. Damian.

Dick likes to corner him and pluck the very flower he's named after from his hair and dangle it above Damian's head as if it just _happened_ to be there. He likes to kiss Damian breathless and tuck flowers behind his ear and leave marks on his neck for Batman to glare over later.

He's unfair.

And Damian, as bane as he is to admit it, thinks they might be dating.


	25. High School - Redirect

**Due to the explicit content in Chapter 25, I have only posted it on AO3 and Tumblr, which are both linked on my profile page.**


	26. Elevator

"If we are stuck in here for one more moment, I will maim you."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing," Tim replies dryly.

"This is Wayne Tech. How can an elevator stall?"

"Technology isn't perfect-"

"It is most likely a ploy; some asinine attempt to force us to get along."

"Bruce wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?"

Tim is silent for a moment, "Well, fuck."


	27. Body Swap

"You're a lot _smaller_ than I expected."

"Shut your mouth, Todd."


	28. Gender Swap

Dick doesn't know when his little sister grew up, but he thinks it was right about the time she climbed out of the pool wearing that tiny, ruffled bikini. He's never seen Damiane wear clothes that aren't modest, but it's turning out to be one of the hottest days of the summer and Bruce has a giant pool in the backyard, so it's unsurprising they are all down to bare essentials. Even Bruce is strutting around in cargo shorts.

The entire family is at the party, the exception being Babs who apparently is on a trip to Fiji with Dinah and Helena. Stephen is helping Cass unpack all the food so Bruce can begin grilling. Alfred is inside the nearby gazebo, putting the finishing touches on the lemonade and feeding Titus the rinds of the lemons (Dick is pretty sure that's unhealthy but Titus seems to like them, so). Tim is laying back in one of the pool chairs, buried in a book, while Jasmine lounges on the one next to him, occasionally throwing leers in everyone's direction.

But Damiane…wow. Dick didn't know that skin could actually look golden in the sunlight. Or that pastel pink was such a good color for her.

"Hey, _Dick_." Jaz calls from her chair with a grin, "We can see your boner from over here!"

Dick sees Bruce drop his head, just _knows_ that he has given up trying to police them, and frowns at Robin the Second. "Shut up, Jaz."

"Not a comeback," Jasmine leans over, taking the book out of Tim's hand and tossing it in the bushes behind them.


	29. Sharing Clothes

Jason is missing two pairs of pants. Damian is missing three shirts.

It doesn't help that they're nearly the same size now, so they don't actually notice when they mix up clothes anymore.

(The afterglow helps).

It's almost turned into a competition with them, like everything, though.

So if Damian is found rummaging through his dresser, or if Jason is swiping things from the laundry, neither of them acknowledge it.


	30. Zombie - Redirect

**Part 30 is the Zombie AU, but since it is Bruce/Damian and mature, I will not be posting it here. As usual, it is on my Tumblr and AO3.**


End file.
